Isabella Grace
by QueenieZan7
Summary: Left in the care of Aro after her parents' seperation, Bella has grown into quite a useful young woman and Aro has plans for her. How will her life as a modern day courtesan play out? What are the details of the mysterious childhood bet made by Aro...?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Information on Grace Elliot and 18th Century France came from Wikipedia…because who uses encyclopedias and reference books anymore…? (lol) All other thoughts/ideas = mine.

Pairing: Bella/Edward, eventually some Alice/Jasper, Esme/Carlisle, Rosalie/Emmett

Rating: M

Summary:Isabella Swan, ward of Aro has finally grown up (and made herself useful). How will her life as a modern-day courtesan play out? Who will fall victim to her charms and what on earth did Aro's childhood bargain with a friend entail? We shall see...

**Isabella Grace**

Prologue

"My dear, are you familiar with Grace Elliot?" He posed the question over the rims of his glasses, drawing his eyes away from the text in front of him.

"N-no," I stuttered out, surprised by the seemingly random question and wracking my brain for anything on the current topic. Admitting defeat, "I've never heard of her before."

He closed the book in front of him, placed it on the desk, and whipped his reading glasses off—all in one movement, an achingly graceful display. But Aro was never anything less than perfection.

"Come sit, sweet Bella." His thin lips stretched in what I assumed was meant to be a smile. He gestured to the expensive wooden chair in front of his desk, beckoning me forth into his office. I came forward and sat rather warily, never before had I been allowed this. He said nothing about my clothes.

"Now…" he settled himself back into a relaxed position and began to explain. "Grace Elliot lived in the late 1700's. Her parents were separated, like yours, and she grew up away from home as well. Known for her intelligence, beauty, and…social prowess, she rose to a quite elevated position in society. During the French Revolution, despite her ties to the monarchy she managed to evade death for several years, dying rich, old, and happy on a very large estate in Ville d'Avray."

His pause set me on my immediate guard. Aro did not mince his words, he never misspoke, and accordingly, all pauses could be nothing but deliberate. "Social prowess?"

I read a lot, chores permitting. Much of my free time was spent in the library, two levels floor to ceiling. I wasn't a French history professor but I knew enough. Social prowess in women meant very few things…

"Like a mistress…?" I shot him an incredulous look, but quickly reigned in for fear of reprimand. One does not live in Aro's household without learning the ways of harmonic existence—or rather how to exist as painlessly as possible. But Aro seemed unaffected by my cheek. In fact, his eyes held the gleam of perverse genius. Very few were capable of deriving such pleasures but Aro was a mastermind.

Too much money, too much time, too many resources. He was bored by 13 and every year after pursued entertainments more expensive and more immoral than the last.

"Ah, ha, ha, my dear! Every day you get more and more brilliant. And more beautiful, just exactly what I had in mind for this task. You've always been able to rise to the occasion my dear Bella." Another calculating look from Aro, who appeared to be simultaneously undressing and redressing me with his eyes.

"Yes, yes. I promise you only the best, should you prove up to the task. A gentleman's word…" Aro's idea of reassurance—somehow completely unreassuring. But after years as his ward, some insane and sentimental part of me appreciated his attempt. I'll never understand what prompted him to take me under his charge so benignly (well, for Aro).

I was a toddler, born to two people of small importance in relation to Aro's scheming. He agreed to provide shelter, education, food, age-appropriate entertainment—all of which to be administered with parental approval. The 'kicker', as one might say, I was not to be employed under any of his 'enterprises' in any capacity.

Charlie and Renee were hesitant to say the least, despite their shared disappointment in the unaccounted for result of their brief union (a.k.a. – me), to just hand me over to Aro, whose reputation had proceeded him long before then.

They said it was the favor…some favor Aro owed to a friend. Some old discreet agreement between childhood friends had resulted in Aro's adoption of a ward. I was not to inherit any of his businesses, nor guaranteed funds beyond my basic needs in the event of his untimely demise, yet I was here and cared-for. My parents met the man briefly, anonymously he explained some part of the pact to my parents in some well-enough-worded way to persuade them to sign me over hands, head, and feet to Aro.

And now my time was coming to an end. Destination? Hell if I knew. But if Aro was bold enough to suggest it, I knew he was well within his rights. The man probably had a law degree 12 times over from every important university in the world.

I glanced in the mirror on the edge of his desk, my farewell glance to the uncorrupted youth I'd managed to become despite my surroundings—uncorrupted, but not naïve. If I followed his instructions I'd be wealthy, intelligent, and beautiful.

"Wait until you see the men, Bella. To be cherished, like the characters in your silly romantic novels. That is exactly what I am giving you—love. Only you'll have a better chance at it than those floundering fools. Strike with precision, get exactly what you want. Sex is the ultimate act of love. What could be more desirable…?"

What, indeed…? Aro's eyes held mine a moment longer, before picking up a snow globe I'd gotten last year from my mother. She'd been in Germany at the time, skiing and boozing it up. Broke a leg and ended up in a hospital and, confined to bed rest anyway, decided to finally write another letter. That would make 4 since year one. I'd thrown the thing in the trash as soon as it arrived, not wanting her gifts or false affection.

"Surely you want someone to love you, Bella…? I can make you irresistible. These women were loved—for years and years, sometimes by several men."

Something must've shown in my face, as he set down the snow globe with crooked grin before vaulting out of the room. I could hear his maniacal laughter as he moved down the hall, stopping to shout back at me.

"Monday, Bella! So starts the rest of your fabulous life..."

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	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Information on Grace Elliot and 18th Century France came from Wikipedia…because who uses encyclopedias and reference books anymore…? (lol)

**Isabella Grace**

Chapter 1

_Bella_

From the stairs I surveyed the grand ballroom below. It was time to prove my worth…

Men in expensive tuxes, women in dresses designed by any and all fashion designers worth their weight in the world of the world of the pampered and refined.

I was sure some of these women had planned two years in advance, and what was more—some of them had planned _badly_. Any serious competitor surveys the competition, and I considered myself a great competitor. I had earned the right to be here, one year of intensive 'treatment' under my belt.

Aro hadn't lied, though I never suspected him of such where my future was involved. _"Only the best, should you prove up to the task…"_

Think Pygmalion, only harder, more painful. Exercise three times a day with a personal trainer, cardio and strength training. Complete dietary overhaul, calorie counts, food pyramid, and nutritional supplements. Some things were never meant to become shakes and yet, there they were staring me in the face at 4:00 am.

And the classes! I could expound upon any subject you could imagine. Facts, figures, numbers, shapes, architecture of Russian palaces, agricultural advances in Latin America, the history of the Wisconsin dairy cow, I could review Aro's law contracts in seven languages…but that part was over, for the time being at least.

I made my way gracefully down the steps to my favorite mantra when heels were involved: "Please, for the love of God, Bella. Don't trip! Don't trip!"

Five stairs to go, my stilettos smacked the carpet-covered marble. Once, Twice, Three times, Four…too good to be true I knew it, and before I'd even started!

But long fingers pressed against the small of my back, exposed by the extremely low cut of my Guy Laroche navy blue evening gown. I could've sworn I heard a hiss, and emboldened by such a passionate response, I flashed a calculating smile the likes of which could rival Aro at my hero.

"A little forward don't you think, seeing as how we've just met?" Arching a brow, I turned to face him fully at the foot of the stairs and was caught off guard by the sparkling green emeralds encased between perfect bronze lashes. I was reminded momentarily of my month of Greek studies and my time spent in Athens pouring over renderings of the exact god-like face in front of me. I resisted the urge to blurt out the exact dimensions of the Parthenon, instead extending my arm forward, hand arched gracefully in expectation of a kiss.

His eyes flashed and he bent slightly, drawing my hand up further with his own till it met his lips, planting a chaste and feather-light kiss to my hand, all without removing his other hand from my back. If the burning I felt at the edge of my spine was a correct indication, I was sure he was singeing the skin there.

As he rose back to full height, his mouth tilted ever-so-slightly at the left corner, and I felt my knees giving out. Summoning courage from some point deep within, I strained to actually comprehend his words, rather than just hear.

"Edward Cullen. And you are…?" He trailed off expectantly.

_Expectantly_…

I was back in control, ladies and gentlemen. I peeked up at him from beneath coy lashes before sliding my gaze towards the terrace, turned into a fairy-fantasy from the numerous twinkle lights and greenery. Aro stood with some 'friends', smoking a cigar and chatting away about some heinous new plot.

"That's a good question…" I smirked in what I'd practiced to be a seductive way and trailed quickly in the direction of Aro and his groupies. Trained as I was in the art of conversation among the most varied of social situations, I soon had the group enthralled in a story about my foray into the world of belly-dancing and the escapades of my tutor, _Samina_ and some of her friends. About 30% of what I was saying was completely false, but it was rather irrelevant. My goal was to entertain. With graceful and entrancing gestures, glowing eyes, and musical voice, I was commandeering a crowd. I was drawing admirers.

And who would question Aro's high opinion anyway? Certainly not anyone who hoped to be successful for any lengthy period of time. It was debated for quite some time whether I would reveal my connection to Aro, but in the end it would've been 'too time-consuming' according to Aro to build from scratch. It was hard enough to forge a place in society even _with_ connections. They only got one so far in the direction I was headed. 'My kind' were prized for talent, rather than connection. I held only the advantage of being arm-worthy as well as…privately entertaining.

Which, in itself, was an intriguing part of my task…Aro commanded all knowledge of sexual techniques be theoretical. Seduction was a valuable tool, and I exhausted all of Aro's 'approved methods', but I remained as close as possible to untouched as I was during my walled existence, one minor exception being kissing practice. The concept seems ridiculous, but all things considered it was absolutely necessary. Men might enjoy a virgin, but no one enjoys floundering, sloppy kisses. But that's as much as I'm willing to rehash that particular category of my education. Some things are better left unremembered…striking with precision has its costs.

______________________________

The party moved on, and I moved with it from group to group, recounting my travels and making intelligent conversation. From time to time I caught Aro's eye from across the room, he winked and I rolled my eyes, inwardly assured of my success but unwilling to play nice for the evening.

Several times I caught a shiny glimpse of the slicked-back autumn hair of my rescuer, and when I caught him staring I flashed a grin at my nearest admirer before delving back into whatever story I was telling with more gusto than before. I laughed, I sipped champagne, I cavorted in the music room to a few of the more lively songs—it's easier to hide miss-steps when everyone's flying around like mad.

I confess that by the end of the evening I was rather furious that my statue man had yet to request my name once more. As Aro led me by the elbow through the main foyer I sighed, convinced Edward Cullen had forgotten all about me.

The chauffeur opened the door, extended his hand in a gesture of help, and I turned in the direction of the upstairs terrace to the sound of Aro's name.

"My old friend!" A man who looked to be in his late twenties literally jogged back inside and all the way out to meet us in the elegant circle drive. Old friend?

Aro laughed, as near an expression of joy without malice as I'd ever heard from the man. "Carlisle Cullen!" My ears perked up and I jerked my hand back from Elliot with an apologetic look. The man had to wait on-call for hours, only to be held up so close to the 'finish line' so to speak. I joined Aro and Carlisle under the entranceway, out of the chill September wind. Oddly, as I approached the men they stepped further out of reach, conferring in small voices and glancing towards me every now and then.

After a few minutes, it got old and, reminded of Aro's 'business' I turned with acute disdain back towards the limousine. Unseeingly, I grabbed the offered hand and slid gracefully into my seat.

"Goodnight…Bella." I stared up at the unfamiliar voice, only to find the soulful green eyes and wind-tossed bronze hair I'd longed to see again all evening. My mouth hung open and he grinned, seemingly glad to have gotten the last word, as he shut the door gently but firmly, blurring his features behind the window tint and shutting off any remarks. So he not only discovered my name, but used a diminutive, rather…informal, as I stated myself.

A moment later Aro slid in to my left, cackling in his familiar cold humor. "Splendid, my dear! You had heads rolling and head turning. Ah, ha, ha!" He clapped his hands in maniacal glee before continuing on.

"By next month we'll have settled on a target. Has anyone caught your eye…?" He shot me a knowing look and I refused to take his bait, remaining silent. "Then I shall choose for you. There are so many potential benefactors. Maxwell Webber, heir to the Webber oil throne, his grandfather's the cousin of a Count! Bradford Cole, his mother's CEO of two different companies, father owns the controlling share in Walford Communications, he holds a doctorate in Economics or something, and does absolutely nothing for a living. Not a bad career, I say. Ha, ha and let's see…Edward Cullen, I almost forgot! He himself has four different doctorates, mother's a designer, his father's in real estate—they probably own half the country, and Carlisle's philanthropic work earned him a knighthood and various other honors in the U.S. and Africa. He's a damned bleeding heart, but hey—who am I to judge, eh?" This question was punctuated by a fresh round of laughter.

As I crawled into bed several hours later, I could still feel a tingling in my lower back. Drifting off into dreamland, I was assaulted with a series of images. Edward, face twisted into some severe expression of anger. Carlisle, the youthful face from the party etched with fresh lines of age. A child, round emerald eyes alight with happiness, coffee-colored tresses bouncing as she flew through the air. I slept fitfully, and rightfully so. It would be two whole years before Edward Cullen crossed my path again, completely changed from the flirtatious young man I encountered at the party.

**Please Review, and feel free to tell me if you think I'm heading off track or going too far too soon, Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Information on Grace Elliot and 18th Century France came from Wikipedia…because who uses encyclopedias and reference books anymore…? (lol)

A/N: Please, people, I'd love a review. Even if you think this sucks. I'm excited to reach 100 hits, but I can't tell what you think—only that you're looking. But thank you for looking! -Queenie_Zan

**Isabella Grace**

Chapter 2

_Bella_

Lessons were continuous. Last week's success meant that we were moving forward rather than backward, according to Aro. We were not finished and we were not letting up, which for me meant more 4 a.m. wake up calls. I was given another personal hour, I argued half a day for this luxury, and in the end Aro admitted the party was a success beyond his imagination, and that personal time was key in retaining one's good humor.

That in itself made me roll my eyes, as Aro was hardly the picture of good humor, for all the entertainment the man enjoyed. In a testament to the irony in his statement, he received a visitor about two weeks after the party.

Carlisle Cullen was a beautiful man. After the party, I made use of my altered schedule to do some 'googling'. I assumed, due to the full blonde head of hair that he was Edward's brother. From my conversation in the limousine with Aro, I knew he was a philanthropist, but I did not understand that he was in fact Edward's _father_ as well. By the end of my reconnaissance I was afraid to meet the rest of the Cullens in person. They were golden, the picture of perfection, and what was more—they matched the pictures. As far as I had seen, they were as warm and beautiful and intelligent as everyone made them out to be. In comparison, I was _nice_, but Edward Cullen was so far out of my league I should've just bowed down the floor the moment we met.

I tried explaining all of this to Aro, but he seemed if anything more determined that Edward was ideal for what he had in mind. "Bella, I did not get where I am today from skirting around the impossible. I sought out the impossible, and I crushed it in my palms. You are being very…silly here. He's unattached, rich, important, and from what I heard he noticed you that night, _Bella_. The inflection left no doubt—he'd overheard our conversation from the doorway.

It was settled. My lessons became more focused, tailor-suited to fit Edward. I knew his favorite foods, favorite movies, books, restaurants. I knew how he liked his coffee, his work schedule, the name of his dog, the places he'd been. If it was anyone but Aro, I'd have wondered _how_ he'd found all this out, but since it was Aro I didn't ask. I didn't even want to know.

So when Carlisle Cullen smiled at me from across the breakfast table, I was on my guard. Rising to the occasion, my face became a mask. My manners became an auto-response. I clicked them on and shut down my feelings, drawing from the conversation as much as I could in a very scientific way. He spoke mostly to Aro, but politeness kept him from ignoring my presence. After 20 minutes they withdrew to one of Aro's studies—a nicer one, naturally, designed for relaxing rather intimidation. Aro started breakfast in as close to a good humor as the man can get, but when I joined him for dinner he was sour-faced and abrasive. I managed to keep my knees from shaking as he called the cook out to berate and insult before firing the man. This was the fourth time Rousseau had been fired, and re-hired by someone else on Aro's staff. With Aro's temper things were hardly likely to get anywhere if people left just because they'd been fired during a rage. Rousseau resisted the urge to roll his eyes or throw a dish in Aro's face, he liked his hands and would not get much cooking done without them.

What exactly happened during the meeting between Aro and Carlisle, I never found out, but the next week there were new folders. New favorites, new names, new focus. Fluffing up my pillows and pulling my covers up to my chin, I stared across the room unseeingly, replaying breakfast in my head several times over.

"My son, Edward's about your age…"

"…getting his fifth degree in music. Bored with medicine, he says. No more law!"

"Alice dragged him to Paris last summer to shop for a wedding dress with Esme, Rosalie, and herself. I don't know why the boy keeps torturing himself. After Emmett and Rosalie's wedding he resolved not to marry, and there he was jumping right in. I myself…"

"…jet setting around with Carla Denison's daughter. Lovely red-headed…ah…Victoria! That's it, very nice, Edward's ad been seeing her off and on for about two years before they broke it off 'for good'. I can't say whether…"

"…sulking around for months, but he really enjoyed himself at last month's party. That's when he started in on this whole piano business. He'll be in Germany for the next year or so, but whatever makes him happy. He's my son…"

I didn't understand it…I couldn't believe for a second Aro would talk to Carlisle about our plan, and if Carlisle had said no, surely Aro would've laughed it off and plowed forward. Yet there I was, gathering intel on Jacob Black, Spanish man with a boatload in Stocks or something. You'd think I'd know more about the money aspect of this endeavor, but I'd never had a head for money living with Aro. It would be worth an effort to become more independent in this aspect, so I made a note to do some research in between lessons.

I was to re-emerge at the end of the next month, another glorified house party. My fitting was in two days, and this was a daytime affair, thankfully more casual. The only reason for the fitting itself was to set me on my highest footing (so to speak). If it could be at all avoided I was _not_ wearing heels. This time Edward was certain not to save me at any rate. _Gott, hilf mir_….

_German (used free internet translator): God help me._


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Information on Grace Elliot and 18th Century France came from Wikipedia…because who uses encyclopedias and reference books anymore…? (lol)

**A/N:** Hello, thanks for reading. I'd love some more reviews, just let me know what you're thinking. Big thank you to the reviewer who corrected my German. My dad lived there for two years--and yet I can't speak it worth anything...oh, well. Very cool country, and because I'm not very familiar with it I kept things pretty vague as far as descriptions go. Long chapter, hope you enjoy! :) **Forgot to add disclaimer for the songs used: Opticon by Orgy, and Canvas by Imogen Heap was mentioned.**

**Isabella Grace**

Chapter 3

_Edward_

I let the music permeate my body, flowing through my brain as much as through the speakers and air around me. Bobbing my head in between swigs, I shot a glance at my cell buzzing on the table. After a moment of thought I turned it off, sliding from my booth towards the rest of the crew, shouting and carrying on in some weird mixture of German and English trying to be heard over the pounding music.

_Message from Opticon_

_Blast from the fashion bomb_

_So helpless_

_Guess what, you're out of time…_

I shot a trademark smirk at Kristin, who grinned a little dazedly before shimmying over my way. Her hazel eyes had a somewhat glazed appearance, so after a few hours, a few beers, and more a few kisses, I walked her back to her apartment. After her long dark hair disappeared behind the door, I made my way to my own place and cracked open another drink. I wasn't nearly done. I couldn't stop until I stopped seeing visions of red hair and green eyes or brown hair, porcelain back, and shimmery navy blue. _Fuck women_.

__________________________

I'd arrived in Germany to study music, specifically composition and piano, which I'd studied some in college, but never to any serious degree. I'd been inspired months ago at the party, and later on it provided the perfect chance to flee.

Days after the party, when my life had finally rediscovered passion and I was, for lack of a better word, _fluttering_ around home with creative energy. Sheet music was flung about my sitting room, and I was to have the piano moved into it for easier access. I came out to eat, _Esme_ would never let anyone skip a meal.

It was during one of my "breaks" that the news came, in the form of a visitor. It was only fitting that it was pouring rain, I guess in honor of my…_misfortune_. I happened to be walking past the stairwell when the bell rang and my father answered, admitting a woman in her late thirties.

I'll never forget the way my heart sped up as she slid off her hood, revealing shoulder length ruby tresses. She glanced up and around, as people often did upon entering our grand foyer. My house was _big_ and I knew it. When her eyes moved to where I stood on the banister, I saw a flash of emerald green recognition. I'd never really taken after either parent, as Alice and Emmett did. Dark hair like mom, blue eyes like dad…but not me.

Even Rosalie and Jasper fit in, blonde like my father, they blended perfectly. I always stood out like a sore thumb in public, but I'd never put much thought into it outside of Emmett's teasing. If anything, I was more spoiled—special even. Alice and I have always practically shared the same skin, but she's like that with everyone. I almost feel bad for running away like I did—but she has to understand.

There was no doubt about where things were going when Elizabeth arrived. She was coming to stake claim…my father led her silently to his private study, and I returned to my own suite, only to reemerge after 10 unproductive minutes to pace the hall and try to eavesdrop.

My attempts were useless, naturally. I didn't find out anything until after dinner, a quiet affair with Alice and Emmett moved out. My parents gave their best efforts to pretend all was well, but when dessert was brought and Mom started speaking about Christmas I snapped…

"_You mean I won't be spending it with my mother…?"_

_Her hands started shaking and she almost upended the tea service. Setting it carefully down and glancing at my father, who seemed remarkably unshaken for a man in his position, she spoke._

"_How about we move this conversation to your room, Edward? Your father and I do in fact have a lot to talk to you about, and one might say this conversation is overdue." She shot a pointed glance at my father, who finally showed a sign of distress._

_We rose and walked silently to my room, me shrugging off the hands of my concerned mother and flopping into my favorite chair._

"_I believe you had a visitor today, father?" I arched a brow, trying to keep my voice neutral._

_He shot a glance at my mother, who shrugged then sighed. "Yes, Elizabeth and I were friends growing up in Italy. She hasn't been in the states in several years and decided to visit for old time's sake. She did not come on your behalf, if that is your worry. I'm sure you've noticed some resemblance, and—"_

"_Some resemblance?" I scoffed, "She's my fucking _mother_, isn't she?" _

_I remember Esme had looked like I'd thrown her a physical punch…she stood, then sat again, and stared into her lap. She started to wring her hands._

_I started hesitantly, "M-mom?" I knew I'd blown it when she didn't look up. Actually, I knew I'd blown it the moment I called another woman her name. And it was hers, as sure as she'd rocked me in her arms, bandaged my scraped knees, wrapped me in a warm fluffy towel after a bath, and clapped after every recital and graduation. She finally raised her tear-stained eyes to meet mine._

"_I'm sorry. I'm just upset. That was wrong on so many levels, and I know you've raised me better than that." I could never take the words back, but I tried to soothe them as best I could. Because she _had_ raised me, raised my like her own, and did a damn good job of it._

_My father gathered her closer to him and cleared his throat, "Elizabeth Masen is your biological mother, but don't you dare insult us that way. Elizabeth had her reasons, but you were as good as ours from the word 'go' and we wouldn't have it any other way. I will explain as much as I can to you when you're ready to act like an adult. Is that now, or do you need more time to calm down…?"_

_Ashamedly, I nodded. "Yes, please."_

"_As I mentioned, I knew Elizabeth a long time ago in Italy. We lived on the same street: Elizabeth, Aro, and I. For a time we were as 'thick as thieves'. Every day was a new adventure, and every new adventure brought us closer together. As far as we could tell, it didn't get any better, and we didn't want ever want things to change. Elizabeth and I kept a check on Aro, never let him go too far, reeled him in and helped him fix things before they got out of hand. But he's always been powerful, manipulative. _

_Power is attractive, and Aro was handsome back then. Young, dark and mysterious…it's hard to resist when someone offers you the world. Elizabeth just couldn't say no. He was harder to control, if anything. Elizabeth yielded all the time from then on, and I couldn't do it all on my own. I knew it wouldn't be long before things spiraled out of control—I was leaving soon for more studies in England and the U.S._

_I spoke to Aro alone, made him swear to me on our friendship…no matter whatever else he did, he had to do right by Elizabeth. Love is blind, and I knew he'd lead her down with him. So he broke it off with her—it wasn't exactly what I meant, and Elizabeth was heartbroken. He cared though, for all his faults. He'd done it for her own good and it was painful. After that you couldn't touch the man. Ruthless, cold, scheming—heartless was what he was. Elizabeth ran away to Paris for a time, moving from this to that, shooting me letters._

_She was waitressing at some café near the Eiffel Tower when she met him again. He'd been shot in an alley two blocks from her restaurant, no doubt something he deserved, but Elizabeth saw him as some wounded animal in need of love. In a way she was right, but it was too late for Aro…"_

_He trailed off and rubbed a hand over his weary face, and my father seemed suddenly aged beyond belief. It was easy to forget how old he was, how much he had gone through—most of which I was only now learning. I knew he didn't speak to my grandfather, and that said something in itself. I'd never even met the man._

_My mother kissed his temple and he continued, refueled by her gentle show of support, "They made love in Paris, he took her to his home, and she fled, rightly disgusted by what she saw of his pursuits since they'd split. She came to me a few months later, Esme and I had been married for 6 years by then, living in New York. Emmett was 5 and Alice had just turned 2. We moved way up near Canada, announcing Esme's 'pregnancy' wasn't going well and I thought the country and some time alone would do us good for a while. No stress…but it was really about the privacy. Elizabeth really did love Aro, or at least the man Aro was in her heart--which is why she gave you up. She believed he'd turn around one day, and knew when he did he'd never forgive himself for corrupting you into a miniature version of himself. She wasn't ready to care for a child, she'd been bumping around from place to place for years and had virtually nothing to give you. She also knew I'd be able to keep you safe should Aro try and fight for you."_

_The tears were flowing freely down my face by now, but I let out a choked sob when I saw my father's eyes mist up. There was just something about seeing your dad cry—your hero, defender from monsters and all other peril, Mr. Fix-It, the man who carried you on his shoulders years after you were too big and his back was too old…_

_It took all my will power to stay on the couch and let him get through it all at once. If we stopped now, we'd never get it all out._

"_He came, when you were born. I'd never seen him look that way before, and I haven't seen it since…but that evening as he leaned over your cradle, his hazel eyes were gold. He held you close, and brought you to the window, and said he'd made a promise. He would do as right as he could by Elizabeth, and he knew when he saw you that meant exactly what Elizabeth thought. But Aro always loved a challenge. Part of him was angry Elizabeth had just assumed he'd corrupt you, would turn you into him and force you down his road. _

_So he put you back, and his eyes glazed for a moment before returning to their marble-like swirls of brown, grey, and green. And he sought another...he made a deal with a couple who owed him money. They'd dissolved their marriage after a year and were deciding custody of their baby. Aro presented them some sort of irresistible deal, and gained sole custody of their child."_

_I was shocked, but more than that I mourned for the loss of an innocent. "Who was the child?" I couldn't help myself, but I had to know._

_My father stiffened, then consulted my mother in wordless conversation. She looked at me with such pity for a moment, like her answer would ruin my life._

"_We believe you met her at the party the other night…Isabella Grace?"_

_My heart was lodged in my throat, and I think a sort of garbled sound erupted from my mouth—my parents were looking concerned. I swallowed hard –_ No._ This was worse than a made for TV movie._

_When I trusted myself to speak clearly and unaffected, I responded, "Oh."_

I waited another week, and then I ran…I found out before I left that Dad had only recently learned about Bella. He was extremely curious about her mysterious "coming out", she appeared aware of Aro's under the table dealings, but uninvolved. The facts of which he was certain were that prior to the past year she'd spent her entire life on Aro's main estate. Nannies were brought, tutors gave lessons, playmates were several years her elders, books and television programs were produced at her own discretion, and she maintained some minimal contact with her birth parents.

What my father failed to understand, _as of yet_, was her exact purpose in regards to Aro's "master plan". Beyond the proof that Aro could raise a child outside of his realm of evil, there was no justification for her presence. Her own feelings seemed to be affectionate towards him, perhaps in the way of a rebellious teen—seeking approval and reassurance, reluctantly warm, but undoubtedly loving with an undercurrent of persistent disobedience. Like she'd do as he said but she'd say her peace, and do it with her own flair, sure to annoy him. She didn't seem to fear him—perhaps because she was in league with him…?

It was a logical conclusion to come to. From what I knew of him, Aro could not be trusted to have good intentions and my attraction to Bella was probably a play into his hands.

The more I thought about the party, the more I noticed that fell right in line. She played the damsel in distress, had clearly dressed to seduce and impress, and her eyes followed mine around the room from time to time. The only other man to receive as much attention as I had was Aro, who winked at her every so often. Perhaps it was something_ beyond_ a dysfunctional parental relationship…?

I couldn't dwell on that particular theory, the violent churning of my stomach had led me to my bathroom more times than I would care to admit.

I resolved to cast the entire situation away. I would not be made a pawn of, regardless of how enchanting I found Bella to be. The best thing to do, would be to stay as far from Aro, and consequently Bella, as possible. I would not be made vulnerable to his powers of manipulation as _Elizabeth_ did.

So I drowned myself in my studies, in bottles of this and that, pouring my angst into my music, my passion and desire translated themselves into notes and rhythms. I thought in beats, felt sounds like emotions. And at night—I lost myself amongst my friends. I refused to cross the line with women, the only ones of any real interest were ones that reminded me of _her_, that entity that drove my music, whose name I refused to speak out loud. That didn't stop my head, however, from thinking it…_Bella, Bella Grace, Bella Grace Cullen, Bella, Bella and Edward…_All day long, it was a struggle to keep her name off my books, binders, and notes. At night, she haunted my dreams until I woke sweaty and shaking, pouring drink after drink with trembling hands until I once again reached oblivion.

It was sick, I know, but that was my life—clubs, classrooms, apartment buildings scattered with dirty laundry, bottles, and music written on all exposed surfaces. Jane and Alec were a Godsend to me, during the days in Germany. Why anyone would live with someone like me, was a mystery beyond me, but Jane cleaned after classes, picked up my things, placed clean folded clothes in my drawers. Alec kept the liquor cabinet as empty as he could, organized my music into sheets when he could, hefted me up the stairs into bed…

Alice came once, and almost fainted in the doorway. She stayed for two days, but never came back. She did send cards, called me every once in a while to beg me home. I should've made a better effort when she visited—she was always up worrying before the trip, but after that she stopped.

She did send a letter towards the end of my second year abroad. When it arrived, I went straight home. Flopping onto my bed, I pressed play on whatever was in my stereo at the moment: _Canvas_, by Imogen Heap. Good song…

"…_It's your life, Edward. You can't escape it, so even if you hide away in Germany fate is coming for you…and you know I'd tell you if it was bad. You're suffering needlessly here, and you're about to put your foot in it…_

…_was waiting on Jasper in the atrium. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely during the luncheon, but as she waited in the hall she looked a little tired. I plopped down next to her to wait and tried to make some small talk. We were actually getting on really well, chatting about this and that. I complimented her on her dress, it was this gorgeous green color that would've really brought out your eyes. I don't know what prompted me to say that—but she seemed to just fizzle out all of the sudden. Then she told me she'd met you at a house party once, and heard you'd been in Germany. She wanted to know if you'd been well and get this—if you and _Victoria Denison_ had set a date for the _wedding!_ How odd…_

…_Anyway, after that she started twirling a solitaire ring on her right ring finger. When she looked up, she asked me if I was sure Jasper loved me. I wasn't sure if I liked her anymore to be honest—but there was something in her face, so I answered truthfully. I said I knew—that I just knew. And she asked what he'd bought me…I'm telling you, there's something wrong with this girl. But I don't even think it's her fault. I asked her if she was spending Christmas with her family or Jacob's, and she said she didn't have any family, unless you counted Aro. Then she said she didn't want to bother Jacob at Christmas! So I invited here for Christmas, and you just _have_ to come home this time. Mom was so upset when you didn't come last Christmas, and it was extremely rude of you to cancel last minute like that and trick us all. I…_

…_so I'll see you in a few weeks,_

_Love Alice."_

I was fucked. My own sister was conspiring towards my doom. But she had a point—it was unavoidable. So I would go, and I would do my best to avoid her. I'd stay far away from her seduction attempts, far away from Aro, should he make an appearance, and even farther away from _Jacob Black_, whoever the hell that was. I think I remembered him from university. I spent a summer in Salamanca, Spain. It was a lovely place with a very active night life, and there was always something to do and someone important blending in among the revelry.

I'd be cold and indifferent, and I'd scare her off if I had to. I was _not_ going down that road…


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Information on Grace Elliot and 18th Century France came from Wikipedia…because who uses encyclopedias and reference books anymore…? (lol)

**Isabella Grace**

Chapter 4

_Bella_

Nothing soothes the soul like a good book, a light breeze, and some shade-patched sunshine. Nothing in my opinion, I mean. I had yet to find an activity that kept my mind farther from my nightmares—waking and sleeping.

Jake was a gift from above, a truly charming individual who made it easy to enjoy myself. I found our time less and less occupied with "seduction", and more occupied with tales of our youth, discussion of our favorite music, movies, books, and thoughts in general. The best part was—I could share my own thoughts. I mean, what I _really_ thought, rather than a parrot of his own interests. And sometimes they lined up, but some of our most enjoyable conversations were when our thoughts didn't line up. Naturally, I was always omitting something…episodes of my past involving Aro, my reasons for being in the same place at the same time when we met up, the details of my life outside of my "free time".

He sensed the barrier between us, he'd have to have been born a fool not to, but he didn't press. He bought me gifts, took me places, listened to me…

It was rather sweet, that's not to be doubted. Some of his gestures were unmistakably romantic…as well as some of our kisses during our time alone. As far as "love" goes—I wasn't sure. Things weren't lining up with my novels. I was confused, upset, and less admittedly, _relieved_.

____________

My nightmares continued after Carlisle's visit. Haunting images, not altogether horrible, but containing elements I couldn't write off as altogether benign. And it didn't help that I caught snippets from every direction that fueled these dream sequences. Edward himself might have absented himself from society, but his family was as present as ever—his sister Alice quite the socialite herself.

Though I don't mean that in an insulting way at all, rather to the contrary. Her behavior was admirable every time I saw her out, something to aspire to and emulate. Easy manners, joyful personality—she was a pleasure to be around, in spite of her connection to my current plague. It was through her that I gained small knowledge of Edward's time since our separation…or rather his departure from the United States, which could have in no way involved me, but a girl can obsess quite a lot when left to her own devices.

He focused unerringly towards music in the day, and at night—rather regrettably if I could say so—he partied into oblivion. The latter tidbit did not come from Alice, but rather ironically from his old flame, Veronica or whatever it was. Although to be fair, the name _Victoria_ had been burned permanently into my memory, I just liked being petty and pretending to forget. Small comfort was still comfort, no doubt about it.

His father was out and about less often than Alice, but he was to be avoided at all costs. The man grew nearer and nearer to the gaunt and lifeless man in my nightly visions: Aged and damaged by burdens one would wish only upon their worst enemies—and even then with some hesitation. I couldn't bear to see his face creased with worry lines and his hair dotted increasingly with silver.

I could barely sleep as it was, let alone plagued by _waking_ nightmares like Carlisle. I thought about Edward every other moment of the day. I found respite only in the worlds of my novels and the music of my iPod. For those who've yet to discover this phenomenon, I feel incredibly sorry. Finding the loudest, most pulsing, screaming music I could stand—I cranked my music to full blast, winced as the sound from my ear buds collided with my ear_drums_, and for a lucky 3-5 minutes I could lose myself to the shock and pain.

Thinking more clearly, I realized this to be one of the safest modes of self-harm, but I was fully prepared to let it continue, especially if the release kept me from the _un_safe methods. Right before bed, I could plug myself up, and you'd be amazed at how well you can sleep with such racket going. Sometimes I thought I understood Edward in a way, despite not knowing the man at all—he drank for the reasons I read or listened to music, lost himself in music as did I, only from different ends of the spectrum. In fact, I gave him more credit than I gave myself, for he managed to productively channel his strong emotions.

How could I have channeled my emotions into my work…? Ah, yes—devote myself to the pursuit and seduction of Jacob, a man I now felt to be the best _friend_ I could ever ask for, and I did my best to lead him on as little as I could. It was my major occupation, and being that I'd spent countless hours in preparation for that exact purpose, I couldn't exactly stop altogether.

If I'd ever seen Aro angry before—that was probably nothing compared to what awaited me if I gave up on his preoccupation. And it did provide me a ticket out of my confinement under his hand. I may have been an idealist, but I _did_ have a healthy sense of self-preservation. Hell if I'd let my guilt over Jacob Black and some nightly obsession stop me from leaving Aro 'for good'.

Jacob seemed concerned enough what was 'good' and 'right' that I'm sure he'd sympathize if he knew the whole truth—but I didn't want sympathy either so the truth would remain hidden. Not to mention from what I knew of Jacob's character and feelings for me, I'm not sure I could stop him from some ridiculous display of chivalry in the face of Aro, provoking some serious wrath.

And _that_ was to be avoided at all costs.

I was going to keep biding my time. Alice invited me some weeks ago to celebrate Christmas from her family. I'm not sure I care to recount the details that let do that particular development, but there I was, completely incapable of saying 'no!' like I wanted to.

So after I quit the courtyard, de-bundled myself from my 'outdoor ensemble'—lots and lots of layers to protect from chill—I began to pack. If I was more spiritual I might have prayed, begged God to keep Carlisle out of my sight as much as possible. I tried to compare the potential ordeal Christmas might become to that of Christmas in Aro's compound.

I'd never experienced a 'Christmas' as it was portrayed in popular media. No warm kitchen filled with delicious smells, no family gathered around a crackling fire and a piano to sing. There were always decorations and lights, always feast, and plenty of Aro's people around to constitute a family…but I never felt the spirit Alice seemed to glow with when describing the festivities that would go on for me there with her family.

I was just as excited as I was reluctant, and a surprisingly large part of me was relieved when Aro, after placing his joined palms under his chin for several minutes' contemplation, nodded his assent with a, "Very well, Bella. Behave wisely."

And I would behave wisely. There would be no auburn-haired, green-eyed mystery for me to contend with, so half the battle was won.


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Information on Grace Elliot and 18th Century France came from Wikipedia…because who uses encyclopedias and reference books anymore…? (sarcasm)

**Isabella Grace**

Chapter 5

_Edward_

I had always enjoyed control. I liked knowing what would happen to me and I liked knowing when it would happen. How does one keep track of this? Control. If I'm in control, I know what's going to happen and when because I _choose_ what will happen and when.

And lately—things had been out of my control, and I couldn't function. Germany provided me with control, and I was not about to lose the already loose grip I had on my own life. So my flight information remained in the hands of me, my credit card company, and the airport. There was no need for Alice to know my flight plan, because while I loved Alice, she was flighty and unpredictable. I was not about to endure any unnecessary changes in agenda, or some damn welcome wagon at the airport.

I felt I needed this time to prepare for Christmas, and to be honest—Hell, I'd _earned_ this, or deserved it rather. I'd been fucked up the ass by my family, whether they'd meant for it or not. I spoke briefly to Carlisle before I booked my flight. He assured me he'd do his best to keep Christmas as smooth and enjoyable as possible for me, and reminded me that, "You're not the only one hurting right now, Edward--although I can't say I understand what you're going through. I give you my word that I'll do the best I can for you, but I need your word too."

It was _not_ a good period for me—but I trusted Carlisle's word above all else. He was nothing if not noble, and his obsession with what was "good" meant lying was virtually unacceptable to him. Looking at the situation from his point of view, he must have felt _very_ strongly about my protection to have gone to such lengths to protect my "identity", as it were. But I found it very hard to think of others when I was struggling to redevelop an identity in the wake of finding my entire life to be a lie. So sorry.

I admitted as much to him, and I _did_ promise to try with Esme and Alice at least. Carlisle and Emmett were fine, I was sure—at least I knew they wouldn't fly off the handle like Alice, or go off crying like Esme. _My mother_, Esme. In Germany, I'd gotten into the habit of referring to my parents by their first names and I'd been correcting myself several times over on the plane ride.

I actually spent the majority of the flight in mental preparation—going over topics for small talk, acceptable stories of my life in Germany, reminding myself to ask about what was going on with everyone else—which was actually a good avoidance technique as well. I thought about our Christmas "guest", and how to approach that as well. I'd have to see _her_ at least once or twice, and I couldn't go around calling her "_her_".

My imagination ran rampant with potential conversations, despite my wish to completely evade her if at all possible.

"Isabella, how's Jacob?"

"Isabella, how's 'our' father doing—still a twisted bastard?"

"Isabella, I'm sorry you had to live with a monster for years and years, I hope he hasn't corrupted you into some kind of evil seductress."

"Isabella, leave me alone, I mean it. You can't just come in my room unannounced, and—(moan) _Bella_!"

After the last one I flagged down the stewardess and asked for five or six of those positively delightful mini-wine bottles. Needless to say, I felt _loads_ better as I deboarded the plane, and by the time I slid into the taxi—I was practically floating on air.

I had tried to cut my trip down to the minimum of hours possible without causing extreme insult to the family, so I flew out just in time to spend a little over a week and a half with them. The weekend right before Christmas was always the 'public' Cullen Christmas, which included only about 50 or so of our 'closest family friends'. Gotta love status expectations…

In preparation of this event, garlands were twined about banisters, twinkle lights covered every possible outside surface, a 20-foot pine cast it's wintery fresh smell throughout the grand foyer, and poinsettias in all their red, poisoney goodness lined the festive gold carpet runner of the grand stairway. The day of this _extravaganza_, all sorts of service people ran this way and that at the direction of Alice—who I had to give a hand for. She'd been pulling this thing off single-handedly since the age of 17, and it had yet to come off with any noticeable hitch.

I'd have complimented her on this feat, but from my position at the top of the stairs, I could see her shaking a spatula at a cook with a menace that actually made me afraid of a spatula—not to mention _she_ was standing next to Alice, her silky hair hanging midway down the back of a dark sweater that suited her to perfection…not that I was paying any attention to her, but you'd have to be blind not to notice.

Speaking of _her_, I was surprised at how easy it was to avoid seeing her so far. Because I'd been rather mum on my travel details, I was able to avoid any unwanted welcome parties at the airport and to prevent Alice's plans for any homecoming feasts. She barely had time to ready the cooks for an extra dinner setting. I had resisted the urge to gloat at her over the table the whole evening, one, because I gave Carlisle my word in our brief conversation that I wouldn't stir up any trouble during the holiday, and, two, because every time I glanced that way I caught a glimpse of luscious brown hair, or delicately pale fingers belonging to a certain living breathing landmine.

I was polite and distant at dinner, speaking in short answers when spoken to, redirecting the subject at my interrogators. It really was good to see them all…even _Bella_, though I battled not to admit it. She was just as beautiful as the last time I saw her, and probably more dangerous.

I remained firm in my resolve to stay out of her little web of manipulation, in spite of her lovely laugh when Emmett made a crude joke, and her shy blush when Carlisle politely steadied her as she stumbled over seemingly nothing, and her beautiful mouth-open wonder at Alice's endless Christmas spirit, and her oddly wistful glances toward my coupled-off family members: when Esme and Carlisle shared a chaste kiss, Jasper sighed and snuggled into Alice's hair as she _a_gain primped his outfit, Rosalie and Emmett cuddled on the couch together.

At night, sneaking into the music room to glide my fingers over the keys, I poured my mixed feelings into the music, the movements changing like my emotions. The beauty of music lied in the change for me, the slow, the fast, the thundering, the soft. A piece of music could go from some fluttery melody to a tortured solo, a string of notes barely audible above the chaos surrounding it, then back again just as quickly with a change of tempo, key, or instrumentation.

I wanted to slip my hand around her shoulder when we all drank cocoa in the family room.

I wanted _my_ hand to steady her as she regained her footing from a stumble.

I wanted to push her down the very stairwell I met her on.

I wanted to grab her, and shake her, and kiss her, and beg, "WHY?!"

Why her, why now, why me, why us, why _Aro_…

I was guilty too, despite my innocence in the entire ordeal. Had Elizabeth not spirited me away to live with Carlisle and Esme, I'd be living the same nightmare—only not _with_ her, but in her stead. Her childhood, her horrors, her painful existence would be my own. I'd been spared and a part of me was experiencing some sort of "survivor's guilt" of innocence. Not that I was some snowy white lamb myself, but I'd seen enough of Aro's "business" to understand what an awful place his home must've been.

It was hard to blame her, to hate her when I thought that way. In a way, her advances were my fault…and she hadn't really been making them since I'd been home.

Not at all really, and I remembered, as I saw her down the hall trying to shove delicate chandelier earrings into her ears while buckling her stilettos and calling out for Alice, that she was actually rumored to be dating Jacob Black. She looked lovely in her formal dress, a beautiful venetian red thing that shimmered with each one-legged hop. Long hours of preparation were coming down to the crunch of 'party time'.

I was amazed momentarily by her ability to look so attractive and yet so ridiculous at the same time. Those thoughts were abandoned when she hopped a little too close to the banister for my comfort. My reluctance to interfere was overpowered by concern for her welfare.

"Bella, be careful!"

She halted all attempts to accessorize. The small silvery hook slid out of her hand and fell with a tiny 'thunk' onto the carpet. She gave me that you-have-food-on-your-face look for so long I actually licked the corners of my mouth before stepping forward.

Like a gentleman, I picked up the delicate earring. Rising to meet her, I slid a hand up her _more_ delicate neck. "Here," I whispered. My hands firm but gentle on her neck, I turned her chin to face away from me, sliding the hoop back into the miniscule little hole with as much precision as I could manage, not wanting to poke her silky skin. Tucking her hair behind her ear, I stood back to admire the effect of the sparkling ruby tiers against her person.

"There. Perfect." I smiled as she whipped her face towards mine.

Her mouth opened and closed before she mumbled a half-muted, "Thanks."

I was just about to try and make some small talk when she bit her lip.

Oh. My. _God_.

Waiving all manners away, I turned and made for the stairs when I heard her gasp.

Curiosity got the best of me, and faced back the way I'd come to see her staring in awe at the Winter Wonderland lay below the banister.

Oh, she had been trained _well_. I was overwhelmed with a wave of contempt as I looked at her now—her face a mask of 'child-like wonder'.

"You've never celebrated Christmas before?" I scoffed.

* * *

_Bella_

It was like nothing I'd ever seen before. It was like all the Christmas movies I'd ever seen rolled into one, and I was living inside it.

His question caught me so off guard. His tone was cruel, and when I spoke it was completely candid.

"Not with Aro. It's like magic."

_Shit_.

I could feel my face turning red as I moved past him towards the stairs. I was careful not to look up as I raced away as quickly as I could on my stilettos while holding the banister in a vice grip.

If I was lucky, he'd have too many drinks to remember tonight anyway, and I'd do the best I could to avoid him during the rest of the party. Casting the confrontation from my mind, I resolved to enjoy my taste of real Christmas. I was going to observe as much as possible to be able to give Jake good conversation the next time I saw him.

It's weird how you can know you've been missing out, but until you live the other side you cannot _know_ you've been missing out. But I made a vow to myself as I took it all in, the sparkles, the garland, the gold and silver and smell of the pine. The crackling fire and the Christmas music wafting around me in the air. Never again would I miss out on Christmas. Never again.


End file.
